


Zvyozdochka

by SweetHavok



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mention of sex, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 05:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11154885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetHavok/pseuds/SweetHavok
Summary: A drabble about how life with Bucky is.





	Zvyozdochka

You saw stars whenever you were with Bucky. His touch sent goosebumps spreading across your skin, his voice was music to your ears. You loved running your fingers through his long, dark hair.

You two took care of each other. It was an unspoken understanding, a rule of sorts. When he would violently struggle in bed, caught in the throes of a nightmare, you pulled him into your arms and began to sing a lullaby version of “Carry On My Wayward Son”. Some nights when the nightmares were particularly dark, you’d wake to him screaming in a mixture of Russian and English, torn between who he was and what Hydra had made him. Those nights you knew to get out of bed quickly, giving him space as he unconsciously threw punches. Once he started to wake, blue eyes hazy and confused, you slid back into bed. You held him and traced his metal arm, despite his protests and flinches; you needed to show him you were not afraid. And he loved you for it. He sheds tears at the sweet and gentle manner in which you handle him; your completely devotion to making him feel better. He is not The Winter Soldier; The Asset in your arms. He’s simply Bucky.

When your workload became too much and you stress skyrocketed, leaving you with a debilitating migraine, Bucky took care of you. He would draw the blackout curtains tightly so not even a sliver of light could peek through. He would bring you Excedrin Migraine with caffeinated tea, knowing that the caffeine could help. You got these migraines so often, he had a care routine set in place. He stuffed towels under the door to block out any unnecessary sound, and then climb into bed with you. He would pull you into his chest, laying your head against his metal arm, knowing the cold of it would soothe the pounding in your head. He softly murmured in your ear, tender words Russian, and he would call you “zvyozdochka”; his little star.

When you had sex, he was all about you. He treated you so tenderly, afraid he was going to break you somehow. You made love slowly and passionately; drinking in each other’s scents and bodies. He worshipped your body like a temple, bring you to your climax over and over before he even penetrated you. And when he did, it was pure heaven; the two of you moved in sync, so attuned to each other. Only when he made you orgasm a few more times, did he let himself go. Afterwards, he cradled you in his arms, whispering words of love against your ear.

You both accepted cared for each other, loved each other unconditionally, and it was all the two of you needed.


End file.
